Walk Through Fire (Page 38)

I pulled on the cami, then got out of bed and yanked on the pants.

Not looking at him, I strolled as casually as I could muster into my bathroom.

I hurriedly found what I was looking for and strolled back to find him sitting on the end of my bed, jeans done up, pulling on his boots.

I bent at the knees in a ladylike squat, capturing his wrist, and tugged his arm to me.

I also got his gaze.

I ignored it, pulled the top off my lipstick with my lips, spit it out, and rolled up the tube.

Then I wrote my cell phone number down the inside of his forearm.

I let him go, nabbed the top from the floor, and rolled the stick down, capping it as I turned my eyes to him.

“Anytime you want more, tiger, you know how to get me,” I whispered.

“I’ll take it,” he rumbled.

“Good,” I continued whispering, playing a game I didn’t understand, terrified of it but not about to let him get the best of me.

Not again.

Not ever again.

“Use you up,” he promised, a threat that was also a turn-on.

“Can’t wait,” I replied.

“You’ll give,” he declared.

I faked misunderstanding. “Oh yeah, I will.”

“You’ll give, Millie,” he growled.

It was my turn to promise.

“Until you can’t take anymore.”

He made a noise that sounded like it came from deep in his chest, a roll of fury and hunger.

My win.

I smiled, straightened, and wandered back to the bathroom, saying, “I’ll lock up after you leave.”

I stopped in the bathroom door and turned back to him.

He was still sitting on the end of my bed, shirtless, his elbows to his knees, eyes to me, looking sated at the same time pissed.

And beautiful.

“And take that fucking crate with you,” I ordered. “I don’t want that shit in my house.”

Then I walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

I waited a long time, cleaning him from me, then listening to see if I could hear him leave.

I couldn’t hear anything.

So I took a chance when I left the bathroom.

Logan was gone.

I walked to the foyer and locked the front door.

Then I walked to the living room to blow out the candles and turn off the fire and the lights.

The crate was still there.

“Shit,” I whispered, staring at it, displeased.

I left it there, did what I had to do, and went to bed.

I slept like a baby.

But I still woke up, remembering the dreams.

More dreams of Logan that were really nightmares.

Twenty-two and a half years ago…

“Smile!”

I was sitting on Logan’s lap on our futon in our living room. When the demand came, we both looked to Keely, Black’s fiancée, which meant old lady, who had her camera up, pointed our way.

The minute she got our attention, the flash blew.

“Fuck, Keely,” Logan growled as I tensed and blinked the residue of the bright light out of my eyes.

“Trust me, you two are so cute together, that’ll be worth the pain,” Keely blithely replied, grinning at us and sauntering into our dining room where bikers were gathered around the table, drinking, smoking, snacking, and playing some game.

An impromptu party at our pad. Without warning, they’d shown three hours ago.

I was all for it like I was always all for it since it happened a lot, not to mention Logan and I dropped in on his brothers a lot.

But tonight I had a problem.

I had a paper that I had to get done.

“You okay?”

I turned my distracted attention from our secondhand dining room table to focus on my man.

When I caught his gaze, I cuddled closer and said, “Happy that you broke from the game to give me a snuggle, Low. Also happy to entertain the biker babes while you boys do your thing at the table. But I have that paper—”

I didn’t finish because Logan’s expression turned from curious to mildly annoyed and he muttered, “Fuck, I forgot.”

“It’s okay,” I told him hurriedly. “I’ll talk to the girls, explain things. They can entertain themselves, I’m sure, and I’ll go upstairs, get to it.”

“Paper’s a quarter of your grade,” he told me something I’d told him. “You don’t need distractions.”

“It’s okay, Low,” I assured him.

“It’s not,” he returned.

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could, he looked beyond me to the dining room and called loudly, “Millie’s got a paper she’s gotta do. Party’s over.”

“Shit, Millie,” Black called back. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I was moving because Logan was rising, taking me with him, putting my feet to the ground, and he did this while I talked.

“Because I needed a break and you boys give good break,” I said on a smile.

Black shook his head and pushed his chair back. This commenced everyone doing the same and while they did it I was reminded why I liked Logan’s family.

They didn’t complain, give shit, ask to finish their beers or their game.

No. I needed peace and quiet, Logan made that clear, so they gave us what we needed and didn’t mess around taking off.

Keely and Black were the last to go, Keely giving me a kiss on the cheek, pulling back and saying, “Good luck on your paper, babe. We’ll go to Scruff’s and celebrate when you kick its ass.”

I grinned. “You’re on.”

“Later, Mill,” Black muttered after doing a forearm clasp with Logan.

“Later, Black.”